


You Can Hear It In The Silence (He Is In Love)

by InMediasRes



Series: String of Fate [12]
Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Boating, Everybody Lives, Fluff, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMediasRes/pseuds/InMediasRes
Summary: Eliot takes Quentin out for Valentine's Day, and then they have a movie night.Sort of.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: String of Fate [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076294
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	You Can Hear It In The Silence (He Is In Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Just another short and sweet piece. Happy Valentine's!
> 
> I kind of fused together Q's boat quest and the little boating day they have in the book? Sort of. I tried, anyway :')  
> This is actually much later than I wanted it to be posted, but ah well
> 
> Title taken from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift.

* * *

_'Cause you can hear it in the silence,_

_You can feel it on the way home,_

_You can see it with the lights out;_

_You are in love,_

_True love._

\- 'You Are In Love', Taylor Swift

* * *

Eliot somehow manages to heft the rather large basket on his arm while still keeping his hold on Quentin’s hand. He’s smiling at Quentin’s needling but ultimately ignores him–he is not telling him where they’re headed or what his plans are for the day. The only thing Quentin knows is that they’re spending the day outside, because Eliot had told him to dress up warm; it was still February after all, still winter in New York.

When they get to their location, Eliot kisses Quentin in the effort to distract him from the sign that would give away their position; he knows it’s worked when Quentin looks at him dazedly with a dopey smile on his face and he chuckles and pulls him into the building, letting go of his hand to cover his eyes so he can’t look around.

“Hello, yeah, booking for Eliot Waugh?” He says at the reception, smiling in response to the woman behind the desk when she nods and politely smiles, clicking away at her computer to sign them in.

She then leads them through to the back, and Eliot somehow leads Quentin through while managing to keep his eyes covered with his hand. He thanks the woman, whose smile turns bright, and then Eliot removes his hand from Q’s face so he can finally see what they’re going to be doing today.

He grins as Quentin’s eyes widen at the boat sitting in the river, and the man who has begun to fit Eliot into his life jacket. “Are we… Are you taking me _boating?_ ” He asks incredulously.

Eliot winks at him over the shoulder of the man now fitting Quentin into his jacket and carefully places the basket he’s been carrying into the back of the boat. “What, are you scared of the water?” Eliot teases, knowing full well that he actually loves the idea of going boating.

Quentin huffs, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling so Eliot knows he’s gotten away with the surprise. When the man is done putting Q’s life jacket on for him, Eliot helps him into the boat, offering his hand for balance. He then clambers in after, careful not to rock the boat, and then takes the oars the man offers him as he nods in thanks. Eliot slots them into the little metal hooks on each side of the boat, and once the man has untied their boat, Eliot’s pushing off, gently steering them upriver.

Quentin’s looking around them in delight, and even though it’s slightly cold, it is a beautiful day; the sun is out even if a little weak, and the bare trees have their own charm about them. But he can’t stop staring at Quentin, who seems to be coming alive on the water–the sun’s bright but feeble rays shine off his hair, turning it a tawny brown, and the rippled water reflects the light onto his face to create a dappled portrait of the man. And when Quentin turns back to smile at him, his heart beats unsteadily as he grins back and rows, and rows, and rows.

They take turns to steer the boat up the Hudson, just basking in the sun and each other’s presence; they take photos of each other laughing and splashing water, selfies with whoever is currently not rowing in the front, photos of the passing landscape, even of the other boats they pass on the way up. And when they both get tired of rowing, they bring the oars in and drift back downriver with the current for a little bit before they take up the oars again.

At lunchtime, Eliot brings out the basket, unpacking the blanket he’d brought with them too. He carefully manoeuvres himself onto the seat beside Quentin, who had been rowing that time, and lays the blanket over their knees to keep them warm as he brings out sandwiches and drinks (non-alcoholic, of course) for them. He feeds Quentin little bites, giving him a short kiss after each mouthful, as he rows and Quentin returns the favour when they switch places.

The sweetness of it all makes Eliot’s heart ache.

It makes Eliot think back–all the way back–to their second date at Bow Bridge; the picnic _Quentin_ had packed for them, and sitting there beside the river as they continued to get to know each other more, laughing and bantering and drinking. And it’s similar this time round, but they’re actually _on_ the river, floating in their own bubble, detached from everything else but each other. And the atmosphere is different; it’s somehow lighter yet has a weight to it at the same time, and Eliot knows–it’s their love, as cheesy as that sounds. It’s their love for each other that’s giving him this feeling, charging the space between them while also soothing, encasing them in its thick, enthralling grasp; every time their fingers brush, Eliot’s heart jumps. Every time Quentin smiles at him, Eliot has to catch his breath. Every time they kiss, he sparks to life. When their eyes catch, Eliot drowns despite the life jacket he’s wearing.

And he can’t help marvelling at how it’s the little things that ignite this feeling: it’s how they just take turns to row without prompting; it’s how their fingers intertwine, slotting into each other like two puzzle pieces; it’s how Quentin’s head fits perfectly in that spot under his chin; it’s how he’s at the perfect height where he can just drop a kiss onto Q’s head; it’s how they can just sit in comfortable silence watching the world drift by, and still say _I love you_ in the quiet space between.

It’s early evening by the time they’re back at the Cottage, and the picnic basket is half empty. Eliot leaves it on the coffee table in the living room–it’s a free-for-all now. He takes Quentin upstairs to his room, and they shrug out of their jackets and scarves and flop onto Eliot’s bed, tired from all the rowing they’ve done that day. Eliot drags his laptop up from the bottom of the bed and switches it on to Netflix, and they briefly bicker about what film to watch but eventually settle on ‘The Notebook’, snuggling into each other comfortably.

Ten minutes into the film, a quiet “Thanks for today,” is murmured into his chest, and Eliot draws up one of Quentin’s hands to place a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

“Happy Valentine’s, sweetheart,” Eliot replies, turning Q’s hand over so he can leave a kiss on his wrist too.

There’s a sharp inhale of breath, a slightly panicky “Shit. _Shit!_ ” coming from the vicinity of Quentin’s mouth, and then he’s rolling onto his stomach to look at Eliot guiltily, chewing on his lip. “I um. I forgot to get you a gift?”

And Eliot laughs because it’s just so _Quentin_ , but he leaves a kiss on his forehead anyway. “Oh Q, I don’t need a present.”

“But you… You… _You know_.” Quentin gestures widely around them at nothing in particular. “Took me out boating. With a _picnic_.”

He smiles so wide it hurts, reaching over to tuck a flyaway piece of hair back behind Q’s ear, stroking his thumb across his cheek. “It’s not really boating if you didn’t get to do the thing you’ve always wanted to do, now is it.”

“What thing?”

“Oh, you know – _the thing_.”

The confusion in Quentin’s eyes dwindle in the second it takes him to understand what Eliot’s talking about, and he’s smiling now, unworried about his lack of gift-giving. “Maybe next time,” he says, and surges in to kiss Eliot hungrily. A tiny sound of surprise escapes before he’s pressing into it with eagerness; Quentin climbs into his lap, straddling him, while Eliot’s hands come to rest on his hips as they make-out heatedly.

At the foot of the bed, Eliot’s already forgotten laptop continues to play ‘The Notebook’.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I didn't want to try and write another explicit scene so soon after the last one (was that really just yesterday? I'm still reeling from it myself) so I decided to just leave it open instead. Whatever happens between them after this fic is all down to you!
> 
> As ever, thanks for reading, and much love to you all this Valentine's <3


End file.
